<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Let's Get Blown by Kissa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434527">Let's Get Blown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa'>Kissa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cooking, Domestic, Gen, Smoking, good cook Jace Wayland, jagnus if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:21:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus drops by the Institute on a day when Jace is cooking. He decides to contribute something to the good time too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane &amp; Jace Wayland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let's Get Blown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some mention of smoking weed is written into this fic! If you don't like that, you've been warned.<br/>This story is about Magnus starting to see what is so special about Jace, but there's no actual pairing in this fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jace tried hard not to feel guilty about the things he was about to do. <br/><br/>He wasn’t harming anyone, yet his intentions were so self-indulgent and so focused on his own enjoyment, and he wasn’t used to that. <br/><br/>It wasn’t every day that he had the whole Institute to himself. But everyone else was in Idris for a celebration and he’d been caught up on a mission in the Seelie realm. They’d forgotten about him - well, maybe Alec and Izzy hadn’t, but the rest had fucked off <em> in corpore </em> to Alicante and so, Jace found himself all alone at home. <br/><br/>He could have done anything: call all the Seelies he knew for an impromptu orgy so he could finally live out his fantasy of having sex in the Head of the Institute’s office, or call Simon over for a nerd evening so he could catch up on mundane pop culture. He could have trained or slept or spent time reading in the library. <br/><br/>But instead, he’d gone shopping, returning with his arms full of bags. <br/><br/>He was thrilled about the possibilities and couldn’t wait to start. <br/><br/>He shed his dusty clothes and went to shower, returning downstairs in a comfy, soft pair of pyjama pants. <br/><br/>The food at the Institute was good, and their cooks usually made sure to prepare nutritionally complete meals for the Shadowhunters, but the dishes were kept fairly neutral so that everyone could eat them and those who wanted more taste could add condiments, with the disadvantage of also adding calories. <br/><br/>Nutritional values were the farthest thing from Jace’s mind now, although what he was cooking was extremely clean and healthy nonetheless. Growing up with fake Michael Wayland/Valentine had forced him to teach himself a lot of skills regular Shadowhunters were not taught, like how to feed himself in various and exciting ways with a sometimes limited range of ingredients and a most often small grocery budget. <br/><br/>Someone watching him would have judged there to be too much food, but Jace was going to eat his fill and then freeze the rest for later, for a night when he’d return tired and hungry from a mission and would only have to briefly microwave stuff to get a tasty meal before bed. <br/><br/>When he was close to ready, he looked at the table filled with freshly made hummus, falafel, fluffy flatbread with Nigella seeds, a big bowl with shredded lettuce, rocket, cucumber, tomatoes and red onions. He had prepared a dressing with sumac and lemon juice and zest, plus some olive oil and other seasonings. <br/><br/>He was almost done, the most difficult parts already behind him. He had made and spiced his own seitan from scratch, cutting it in thin pieces and frying it in an oriental marinade. <br/><br/>The Institute kitchen smelled like the streets of Marrakech and Jace was impressed. He had already tasted some of the components of his meal to make sure they were all properly seasoned. <br/><br/>*** <br/><br/>Upon looking at the table, now fully covered in platters and bowls, Jace thinks that maybe he overdid it and cooked for a family of six. But six portions of food are not a bad thing. <br/><br/>He’s about to take off his apron and sit down to eat when the Institute wards alert him to someone being at the gate. It’s Magnus Bane, and Jace hurries to let him in. Magnus doesn’t like being at the Institute so if he came there on his own, it must be serious. <br/><br/>“Hello, Jace. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Magnus greets Jace, pausing to look him over from head to toe. He’s never seen Jace without his gear and weapons, with his hair unstyled and flowing softly instead of being gelled back. Shirtless, with his flawless milky skin, peppered with contrasting runes and stretched over muscles sculpted by a lifetime of training and fighting, the apron a strange, domestic contrast to the battle-honed body. <br/><br/>Jace looks like an expensive, rare cat, Magnus thinks. Even in his dishevelled and not really ready for guests current appearance. <br/><br/>“Is Maryse here?” He asks, before Jace starts to think he only dropped by to ogle him. <br/><br/>“No, no one’s here. Uh, I am.” <br/><br/>“Well in that case I’ll send her a fire message later. It can wait.” Magnus says, reluctant to leave. Whatever Jace is doing in there, alone in the Institute, smells mouthwatering. <br/><br/>Jace seems to catch on to the awkwardness of the moment and he runs his hand through his freely flowing hair. <br/><br/>“You know, I was just about to sit down to eat and I made a lot. Like, a lot-lot. Would you... like to stay and try some?” <br/><br/>Magnus lights up. He’s not usually welcome as himself at the Institute; Shadowhunters only ever want to deal with the High Warlock and what he can do for them. <br/><br/>He is also keen to get to know Jace better. They started off on the wrong foot, and he is not one to want to hold grudges and wallow in conflict. </p><p>“I’d like that very much.” He says, figuring, if Jace is as good a cook as Isabelle and Alexander, he can use magic to improve things and not die of food poisoning. <br/><br/>He follows Jace inside and takes in Jace’s cozy and relaxed look, the soft pants and the fuzzy slippers. Jace really wasn’t expecting or planning anything except dinner and a quiet day in. <br/><br/>“That is indeed a lot of food.” Magnus says, when faced with the kitchen table full of platters and pans. <br/><br/>“Could you, uh, send it all upstairs to the living room, please? It’s more comfortable there.” Jace suggests. “I need to finish one last detail and I’ll be right with you.” <br/><br/>Magnus does as he was so politely asked, feeling the tendrils of nervousness start to tickle him. Off duty Jace is worlds apart from active duty Jace. <br/><br/><em> Off duty Jace is more dangerous than a whole Institute full of armed Shadowhunters. </em> <br/><br/>Jace joins him not long after, with a big bowl of crispy, fried Lebanese flatbread chips. <br/><br/>“Please, have a seat and help yourself. There’s kebab with yoghurt, lemon and garlic sauce, falafel, cous-cous salad, nigella seed bread and sigara börek and these are flatbread chips for the fattoush salad.” <br/><br/>“Did you make all this or is it bought?” Magnus asks, speechless. <br/><br/>“I made it. I like well spiced food, something we don’t get served here. Our cooks have only heard of salt, pepper, ketchup and mayo.” Jace says, shrugging. “Please, dig in. I’m not going to wait.” <br/><br/>They both sit on the sofa, a bit of distance between them, the awkward tension having started to dissolve and go away, but traces of it still lingering. <br/><br/>“Why don’t I make this more suitable,” Magnus thinks, snapping his fingers and turning their area of the living room into a tent with comfortable stacks of pillows and low tables so they can recline comfortably, talk and enjoy their food. <br/><br/>He rolls some falafel into a flatbread, together with some of the salad and a drizzle of the yoghurt sauce and bites into it. Then again, and again, until he inhales the whole thing almost without breathing through it and definitely not talking. <br/><br/>“By the nine hells, Jace. This is delicious.” He says, using a napkin to wipe sauce leftovers from his moustache. “Who taught you to cook like this?” <br/><br/>“Necessity. Valentine used to leave me alone for weeks and I’d have to fend for myself. It was a test most of the time, to make me resourceful.” </p><p><br/>Magnus has no illusions that this was something that a teenage Jace had to tackle. Knowing Valentine, he left an eight-year old alone with no remorse. <br/><br/>He can’t help but look at Jace with new eyes, the picture he sees now a much more appealing one than the first impression. <br/><br/>A resourceful indeed, creative and talented young Nephilim. Strong, for having survived, broken, for having had to do it on his own. Soft, beautiful and unselfconscious, but not arrogant - that’s just the front he puts up for protection. <br/><br/>Jace is no longer wearing the apron, but he didn’t bother dressing up to sit down and eat with Magnus, completely unaware of the effect he has on the High Warlock who, ancient and wise as he may be, is not invulnerable to a young, lean and semi-naked body displayed within close reach. Especially since Jace’s thin jersey trousers do the very opposite of concealing the contours of what’s underneath. <br/><br/>But tempted as he may be, Magnus reins himself in. This is one of Jace’s rare days off, when he doesn’t have to be anything for anyone. He deserves a break from being someone else’s piece of meat, good for only two things, fight or fuck.</p><p>He treasures the trust Jace shows him and he hopes he will be able to return it soon. <br/><br/>“How about a good Lillet for dessert?” Magnus asks. “And some of this?” He adds, making two long spliffs appear between them. <br/><br/>“I knew about the alcohol, but… Magnus!!!” Jace says, no trace of judgment in his voice. “I didn’t know you like to go up in smoke too.” <br/><br/>“Well, I’m the <em> High </em> Warlock of Brooklyn, not the Crisp Warlock of Brooklyn.” Magnus says, making Jace laugh. <br/><br/><em> He really does look like he was made by angels in Heaven </em>, Magnus thinks, watching Jace dissolve into giggles at his immature pun.  </p><p>They spend the next hour eating and drinking, talking about big things and small things, until Magnus lights the spliffs and passes one to Jace. <br/><br/>The Nephilim crawls over to him, resting his head on the warlock’s clothed chest. <br/><br/>“I don’t like to trip alone.” Are the only words of explanation Jace offers, taking a first long puff of his spliff. <br/><br/>*** <br/><br/>Hours later, when the Lightwoods and everyone else returns to the Institute, everything’s been cleaned up and the leftovers put away safely in labeled containers. <br/><br/>Magnus left, but not before extending an invitation to Jace for the two of them to meet at his loft and continue their very pleasant day, perhaps cooking together and smoking more of the good stuff without the stuffy atmosphere of the Institute putting a damper on their fun. <br/><br/>Alec and Izzy are greeted by a freshly showered Jace, who just finished a round of training, or so it seems. <br/><br/>Alec notices Jace’s pupils are blown and the most tempting sensations reach him through the bond. It feels like Jace is having a very slow and long recovery from mind-blowing orgasms, plural, and Alec feels overwhelmed just from feeling hints of that, still too innocent to know what else can cause the brain to dump so many happy chemicals in his parabatai’s blood. <br/><br/>Robert joins them briefly in their part of the living quarters floor with a worried look on his face. <br/><br/>“Jace, not to be indiscreet, but why does the lounge smell like weed?” <br/><br/>“It’s me, when I returned from the Seelie realm all of my clothes reeked. They had a revel of sorts.” <br/><br/>“Are you crisp now?” Robert asks. “I expect a report. Maryse is going to ask for it.” <br/><br/>“Yes, and I have it ready. What do you think I did while you were away? On your desk, in your office.” <br/><br/>Once Robert leaves, Isabelle bursts into laughter. <br/><br/>“Where did you get it? That’s the clean, quality shit. You don’t get this from the regular street dealer in Brooklyn. You’re still fucked up on it right now, look at you.” She says. <br/><br/>Alec watches, not understanding what his sister and his parabatai are on about. <br/><br/>“Friends in <em> high </em> places.” Jace says, with no intention to give anything further away. “Come on, Alec, let’s spar.” <br/><br/>“No way, so you can hand my ass to me even when you’re stoned and then never let me live it down?” <br/><br/>(The End) </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>